


the failures of the human immune system

by mysticalmarigold



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Dimension C-137, Flu, Fluff, Grandpa Rick Sanchez (Rick and Morty), Hugs, No Incest, Sickfic, Sickness, grandpa being a grandpa for once, i wish i didn’t have to clarify that, this is just fluffy gross fluff hug fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:41:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24621025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysticalmarigold/pseuds/mysticalmarigold
Summary: morty has the flu. rick chooses to take care of him.
Relationships: Rick Sanchez & Morty Smith
Comments: 4
Kudos: 97





	the failures of the human immune system

**Author's Note:**

> yes i did just write rick and morty fanfic please don’t judge me i’m going through a rough time and i needed this ok. also this features an uncharacteristically naïve morty and an uncharacteristically sweet rick and y’all just gotta deal with that because i need it rn.  
> this was written in a night so it’s not super good but i enjoy it and i think you might too, also i have no idea what is wrong with me psychologically to make me write so much sickfic but yk it is what it is
> 
> if you enjoyed this fic, please please leave a comment! i love hearing from people who liked what i’ve written!

“Can y-you just…hug me?”

His voice was tremulous, along with the rest of his warm little body.

Morty was not one to request affection from his grandpa. Hell, he wasn’t one to _request_ much of anything from anyone. He’d much rather try and do it himself, but at the moment, he was...incapable of doing much on his own. 

”Wh—“ his grandfather grumbled, his attention being taken away from the label on the bottle of cherry cough syrup he’d just dosed Morty with. (He’d gotten the non-drowsy, homeopathic bullshit kind with the teddy bear on the front. It seemed non-threatening enough. He was never comfortable fucking with Morty’s body using his own concoctions of drugs. Sure, they’d work, but at the expense of maybe a year off his lifespan. He wasn’t willing to take that risk...yet.)

”Nevermind,” Morty interjected, cutting Rick off before he could finish his stammer.

It was a stupid idea anyways.

Rick gave a short glance over to his grandson, then returned his attention to the bottle in his hand. It was homeopathic, so he wasn’t sure what it could actually do to help, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try. He’d be a pretty shit grandfather if he didn’t at least try. And—fuck’s sake, did Morty ask for a hug?

”Did-did-did you ask for a hug?” he finally mumbled, not yet making eye contact with Morty and instead choosing to continue nonchalantly reading the label on the bottle.

The kid was silent, still shaking slightly. The way he was propped up on the couch with the moonlight shining in through the sliding glass doors made him look vaguely like a Victorian child who’d come down with a bad case of consumption. His cheeks were rosy and warm, much like the rest of him, which made some very human part of Rick feel instinctively worried, even though he thought he’d rid himself of those unnecessary instincts a long-ass time ago. He’d come down with some sort of flu and had made himself into a horribly (sym)pathetic case in Rick’s eyes. When he wasn’t puking, he was sleeping or coughing. Honestly, Rick had forgotten that regular immune systems could be taken down by a virus like the flu just as easily as he could be taken down by...oh, a knife, whatever, this is a shitty analogy anyways. The point is, he’d forgotten people could get so sick, and he almost felt bad for not being able to keep Morty safe from this. It was like his body was fighting against him. Actually, that’s exactly what was happening with the fever and the puking.

Rick paused for a moment before turning away from Morty and grabbing the thermometer. He gently pushed some of Morty’s hair off of his forehead before running the thermometer across it.

”103.7...” he mumbled to himself taking his hand off Morty’s forehead. After a moment, he took another look at his grandson. He was sweaty (which wasn’t much of a departure from his regular state), gross, shaking dramatically, wheezing, delirious, and didn’t smell quite right. He was the last person in dimension C-137 that Rick wanted to hug.

Still, he found it in himself to pull the tiny boy in his arms and hold him, cradling his head when Morty sank into the hug like it provided him some relief.

After holding his grandchild for what felt like forever and a day, he noticed that Morty was very much unconscious on his chest. If he got up and left, he’d be a total ass. If he stayed there, he’d start getting a cramp in his fucking leg. Ugh.

Gently laying Morty’s head back on the pillow, he moved as slowly as possible to try not to wake Morty up. He failed miserably.

Morty woke up with a groan, clutching his head with one hand and clinging to his grandfather’s t-shirt with the other. Fuck.

”Please don’t leave,” he whispered into the dark living room.

”I’m not leavin’,” Rick returned gently, removing Morty’s hand from his shirt. It was easy, his grip wasn’t very tight.

With a grunt, he eased himself down onto the floor and leaned back on the couch.

”I’m not goin’ anywhere, so go to sleep, okay?”

”Promise?”

”...promise.”

True to his word, Rick stayed by Morty’s side throughout the night, snoring loudly at some points, until the sun began to shine directly in his fucking eyes.

Months ago, he would’ve gotten up and left. He had better things to do. But something inside him made him stay. He didn’t know what it was, but it was enough to remind him that everyone deserves a little tenderness.

_Everyone._


End file.
